Nightmares and Dreamscapes
by CandyAppleBlack
Summary: Slash Marty/Karl. Marty struggles with strange events brought to him in his subconscious
1. Nightmares and Dreamscapes

Disclaimer: Stand alone Fic. This was written a while ago. It was intended for a different purpose, however that purpose died. So I uploaded this for the sheer hell of it. Marty/Karl pairing. Yes it's slash, another reason I posted this. I'm on a slash kick and well I saw this in my folder and didn't think it was half bad. It's my first solo slash Fic so be kind. SO yes, like it. loath it, eat it for breakfast...ok now I'm just ranting:P  
  
'I wrote this!', a CandyAppleBlack Fic. (c) 2002, All Rights reserved  
  
VAMPIRE HIGH Title: Nightmares and Dreamscapes  
  
1. Nightmares and Dreamscapes  
  
  
  
The lid of the black polished coffin rose, reveling the soft off white lining along with a long slender arm and a rough skinned hand. Marty sat up. Running a pale hand, that although rough, showed no sighs of his true age, threw his unkept dark hair. He got out of his coffin and gently shut the lid. Slowly he walked away from it and into the direction of another, Karl's. The newly made vampire who, only less than a year ago, was capitain of his High School football team. When he reached the neighboring coffin he stood over it with a look of silent awe. He opened it. Empty. Marty looked at the empty space between the satin walls where Karl's body would normally lie.  
  
He reached a hand inside and began to run it across the smooth material. Looking at it with a strange, unexplainable envy. He pictured Karl, his white skin and athletic body, pressed so intimately to some inanimate thing that could never begin to fathom the sweetness of his soft skin, that Marty's fingers itched to touch. He felt a sort of hatred for this coffin.  
  
He pulled his arm back and closed the coffin lid. He slid his hands into the pockets of his leather pants. The black pants hand obviously be worn often, the leather hand cracks and the color was fading.  
  
Marty walked into the other room, with an odd feeling of disappointment. He entered the lounge area and the previous feeling was lifted. There he saw Karl, sitting on a sofa reading a magazine. Not supperisingly, a sports car magazine. He watched Karl, his fingers slowly flipping the colored pages, his eyes obviously looking at the pictures and avoiding the words. Marty guessed it was a jock thing, to drool over images of unatainable sports cars like a dog looking longingly at a piece of meat. Marty then saw Karl's mouth part into a smile. He watched Karl's faded pink lips move upward and his tongue give the bottom lip a small lick. Marty felt a twist of pleasure, a body shiver, as he looked at Karl's lips and tongue. He liked looking at Karl's mouth, he liked looking at Karl. He wasn't sure why he did, but the more he looked the more he felt the desire to get close to him. The desire to taste his lips.  
  
Marty moved from the door way and began to approach Karl. He made his way over to him and stood in front of him. Karl looked up from his magazine.  
  
"Uh, hi Marty. What do you want?". Karl asked. When he saw Marty , he figured he was there to make some cruel joke about his jock status or inexperiance in being a vampire.  
  
Marty said nothing. He just took the magazine out of Karl's hands and tossed it aside. He climbed atop of Karl's lap in a straddle position. He put his hands on the sides of Karl's neck. Karl opened his mouth to protest Marty's actions, but before any words could be formed, Marty leaned in and smothered them with his lips. He began to kiss Karl. His lips moving slowly, and rhythmicly, as he began grinding his body against Karl. To Marty supprise, Karl's lips moved along with his own. Marty then began to deepen the kiss. He opened his mouth and he slid his tongue out, pushing Karl's teeth apart, allowing him access to the inside of his mouth. He caressed Karl's tongue with his own, occasionally giving it a gentle suck. Marty felt Karl wrap his arms around him, slowly sliding his hands down Marty's slender body and eventually clutching his ass. Marty slowly ended the kiss and stared at Karl briefly. It wasn't Karl's face he'd become lost in, it was his eyes. His big innocent eyes, guiless like child, eyes of pure innocents lined with dark heavy lashes. And the color, a blue so stark and lovely that it almost hurt Marty to look at them. He stroked the side of Karl's face gently, leaning in, nuzzling it against his own. He began trailing gentle kisses down his neck, lowering himself down Karl's body, dragging his hands down Karl's chest. He slid off of Karl's lap and on to his knees. He put his hands on Karl's knees and slowly slid them up his thighs. Marty stopped, his face only inches above Karl's groined. He then moved his hand upward and undid did Karl's pants, gently grazing Karl's hardened cock with the palm of his rough hand. He moved his hand and started to lower his head........  
  
  
  
Marty awoke. His body jolted upward, crashing his head into the lid of his coffin. He opened it and sat up breathing heavily. A dream...or was it a nightmare? He didn't know, nor did he want to. He'd had those kind of dreams before. Mostly involving Essie and on rare occasion Merrill. But never about men, especially not of Karl. His face was stained with a look of horror and disgust. Yet at the same time he felt a sickening twinge of pleasure. Slowly he turned his head, his eyes meeting Karl's coffin. He stared at it briefly. His bottom lip trembled.  
  
"Oh my god....", he began to stammer, "What's wrong with me?"  
  
********  
  
Marty sat at the table. He sat still and silent as if trying to blend in with the furniture. He stared down at the blood allotment, the red liquid sucured in it's little plastic pouch, on the table in front of him, blankly. He was in no mood to consume it. He continued to sit there, holding his arms at his chest, motionless, seemingly almost inanimate.  
  
The others looked at him with vast confusion. Essie got up and walked over to him. Her blond hair bobbing on her shoulders, lips stained with a shimmery translucent red, and her slender body fitted into a dress that showed off all the curves God gave her. She rose her slender hand, nails accented with a sliver polish, and struck his face jolting him back to the horrid reality.  
  
"What's wrong with you?", she exclaimed, "You've been out of it for twenty minutes!"  
  
Marty looked up at her, his face devoid of all emotion. "Out of what?"  
  
Thrown by his expressionless face and response, Essie waved a hand in front of his empty grey/blue eyes, "Are you ok Marty?"  
  
Marty looked away from her, starring at the lamp in the center on the table, with the same lack of expression. "My subconscious is a bitter, vengeful, whore. ". He then slid his chair back and rose. "Excuse me.", he said as if talking to no one. At that he walked out of the room, leaving the others gobsmacked and confused.  
  
Drew, who normally showed little to no concern for Marty, ran a hand through his dark hair. "What was that all about?". Drew had the appereance of a poet, in his deep purple suit and white shirt acsented with with lace around the cuffs and collar.  
  
Drew really didn't care if Marty was in a bad mood, unless it was a threat to a life. Marty had a tendency to get violent when unhappy. But this, this wasn't a Marty like response. Marty usually had a witty or offensive remark and usually ended if incessent torment and mocking of others.  
  
Merrill tilted her head, her long dark hair falling over her shoulders which were cloked in a short, yet conservitive, black dress. Her eyes, that always had a costant look of concern, followed Marty as he left the room."Was he saying he had a bad dream?".  
  
Essie just shrugged her shoulders, 'Oh who knows. It's Marty, 'messed up' is his middle name."  
  
Marty was no fool, he could still hear them rhubaring in the background. In the state he was in though, what ever they were saying about him, didn't even go in one ear to come out the other. Their words just hit him in the head and fell to the ground dead, like bugs hitting a bug zapper. As he left the eating area and entered the other room, he felt his body become impacted by something. Something large and solid. He looked up to see what he had casually bashed into, he stood stunned, like a deer in front of the headlights of a moving truck. Marty wasn't looking into headlights thought, he was looking into eyes...Karl's eyes....  
  
  
  
TO BE CONTINUED  
  
Yes I know this was probably stupid, but I felt the need to upload it none the less. So review, if you do that would be nice:P Oh and I will finish my other stuff, I'm just on a slash kick right now. 


	2. The Deer and the Truck

2. The Deer and the Truck  
  
Meeting Karl's eyes with his own, Marty stumble back and lost his balance landing on the floor with a dull thud. Karl, struck with a feeling of mild confusion, held his hand out to Marty in a silent gesture of help. Marty looked at Karl's hand wearily, not quite sure if he wanted to take the hand that hand done so much more that want to help him up in his dream. Marty hesitated, but then reluctantly rose his hand up, accepting the offer of help.  
  
"Sorry Marty,", Karl spoke, a big happy grin spreading across his face as if everything in the world that day was wonderful. "I didn't mean to scare ya...I didn't know I was scary."  
  
Marty forced a laugh, " Oh yeah, you're real scary, grr argh." Marty wanted to hit his head against a wall, he could feel waves of discomfort generating off himself. He was standing in front of the guy who he had just had a intense sexual dream about, that he unadmittedly enjoyed, and was feeling pretty awkward. He was pretty sure Karl could see it too. Albeit, Karl was a little thick, after all he was a jock, but Marty knew that no one was that dense. Marty wished he could jab a fork into his right frontal lobe and feed it to a near by cannibal 'cause just as his brain had told him, he noticed Karl looking at him, head slightly titled with a small look of concern in his eyes.  
  
"You ok Marty? You look a little tense.", Karl said while Marty stood there with a slight fidget.  
  
Marty stuffed his hands into his pockets, "I'm fine, I'm just...tired.", at that Marty pushed past Karl hurriedly.  
  
Karl shrugged, "Ok. See you later.". Karl then walked off to get something to eat.  
  
Marty walked to the balcony stairs. He climbed them and sat the little table. Instead of a wall, he hit his head on the table about five times. In between the sounds of hitting his head on the table he spoke words, "What * is * wrong * with * me! *". After the final clunk, he rested his forehead on the table. He couldn't for the life of him figure out why he'd be thinking about men, Karl, in that way. Even if it was in his subconscious. But the fact that he was having those thoughts and images in any form was causing him brain pain. He sat up there for a good ten minutes contemplating reasons for his brain's sexual fantasy malfunction. "Maybe I had some bad blood the night before.", he muttered to himself. Then he thought maybe The Fury had something to do with it, maybe they had cast a spell on him. He then realized that the more he began to think of reasons, the more stupid and inane they got. Deep down he like the content of the dream, though admitting it was not an option. He decided that he couldn't take it anymore, he had to talk to someone. So at that he got up and went in search of a make-shift therapist. 


End file.
